Stories
by insidejokes
Summary: It was not his earliest memory. At least, it shouldn't have been. Martin Deeks felt fairly sure that he'd remembered some earlier, happier days of his life; back when things had almost resembled some sort of normality. Somehow, though, in the years since, any memories of his childhood before had been entirely obscured by that one day, and everything that came after.


_**This idea just would not leave me alone- hence, what you're about to read. I don't exactly know where I'm going yet, but hopefully you enjoy! :)**_

_ It was not his earliest memory. At least, it shouldn't have been. Martin Deeks felt fairly sure that he'd remembered some earlier, happier days of his life; back when things had almost resembled some sort of normality. Somehow, though, in the years since, any memories of his childhood before had been entirely obscured by that one day, and everything that came after._

_ His father had been crying. _

_ He'd walked through the front door, coming back from the park across the street. Couldn't remember what he'd been thinking of, or what else he'd been doing that day- the memory didn't really start till he walked into the kitchen. He'd been planning to tell his mom about the loop he'd done on the swing; but all thoughts of that vanished from his mind. This was the part when it got really clear, vivid memories against a stark background of nothing._

_ Head in his hands, clutching at his hair, Gordon John Brandel was sobbing. _

_ It had been almost a funny sight, in that it was so wrong. The huge, towering man, who on a regular basis sent people crying to their mothers, sitting there shaking with supressed tears. Marty's mother was rubbing circles on his back, trying to console him. _

_ Without noticing his son, his father had spoken. "They were all dead. All of them. Just lying there..." _

_ "Oh, Gordie-"_

_ "Stop! Just... shut up." His father had stood suddenly, shoving his mother off of him. This hadn't seemed particularly suspicious at the time- his father had always had a temper, but at the end of the day, it would always blow over. _

_ Clutching a handful of his hair in his hands, his father had turned, and finally caught sight of his young, entirely dumbfounded son. For a long moment, the two of them had just looked at each other in a horrible sort of shock. Then his father's face had twisted in what seemed to be a combination of anger and humiliation, and he shoved past Marty, mumbling something about going to get a drink. _

_ At that point, he'd looked, scared, at his mom. She put an arm around him, pulling him close and responding to the question that he hadn't yet asked. "He'll be back soon. It'll be fine."_

If she had to say "I'm fine" one more time, Kensi Blye was going to kill someone. Literally.

Probably.

Maim them seriously, at the very least.

"Kens-" she looked up, startled out of her murderous thoughts by Callen's voice as he stode into the hospital waiting room. Sliding into the seat next to Kensi, he looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "Sam just called, is there any news?"

Kensi shook her head curtly, breaking the senior agent's gaze and looking determinedly anywhere else but at him. "The nurse will call us in when they're ready; that's what she said," Kensi glanced at her watch with a sigh, "four and a half hours ago, anyway."

Callen's brow furrowed in concentration. "No updates on-"

"Nothing." Kensi cut him off, a tone of finality in her voice. "Nothing at all."

"And you?" He persisted.

"What about me?"

Callen sighed, exasperated. "How're you doi-"

"Fine." Kensi deadpanned, not looking at him. Part of her felt bad, but the other part was still thinking about hurting someone. Hey, they were in a hospital - how bad could it be?

For a few minutes after, they sat in a tense silence. Kensi looked on, sullen, as families, couples, and lone people waited in lines and in straight-backed chairs to either be admitted or visit someone. _Bet none of them have been waiting four and a half hours,_ she thought petulantly, squirming in the uncomfortable chair.

The monotonous din of the hospital in the early morning was interrupted as Sam joined Callen and Kensi in their corner of the room. Despite the generally grim atmosphere, Sam grinned as he saw his teammates immediately straighten at the scent of the hospital coffee.

"Sam," said Kensi, gratefully taking the styrofoam cup, "you are my hero." Callen looked at the coffee longingly, and Sam took the empty seat at Kensi's other side.

Looking around, he commented conversationally, "Waiting room's not too busy yet. Normally you have to fight for a seat."

Kensi laughed humourlessly. "I've been camped here since one o'clock. I haven't showered yet, this is the first caffiene I'm having, and there is a severe lack of information that is making me want to-"

"Sounds like a pretty good deterrant to me." intoned Callen, exchanging a pointed glance at Sam. Both of them knew better than to suggest that Kensi head home, and so the three of them sunk into another silence, each consumed with their own thoughts. That was the thing that she so hated about hospitals: There was so much waiting, so much idleness that gave your brain nothing to do but think. And once you started to think, you started to imagine, and four (_and a half, _she added) hours of imagining were not exactly beneficial to staying calm.

A shadow passed over Kensi, and, looking up at the culprit, she got to her feet immediately, Sam and Callen mirroring her a second later. "Mrs Deeks," smiled the Nurse, "How are you doing?"

Ignoring the aghast looks from Sam and Callen (had he just _giggled_?), Kensi plastered a smile on to her face and spoke through gritted teeth. "Fine. I'm fine."

"You can come see him now, if you'd like." The nurse turned to lead Kensi away. Once her back was turned, Kensi turned furiously to Sam and Callen; who were looking a little too amused for her liking, given the situation.

"Look," she whispered defensively, "only family is allowed to visit this early, and I didn't want to make Hetty call in her favours..." Slowly, the anger trailed out of her voice, revealing slightly the complete exhaustion underneath the facade.

"We understand, Kens," said Callen, now serious. "Now go. See your partner."

She followed the nurse through a maze of halls, all of which carried the familiar sounds that one expected upon entering a hospital. Then, after walking for a number of minutes, the noise was gone. The nurse led Kensi into a quiet hallway, and gestured to the open door in front of them. Kensi's steps faltered- it was unnatural, eerie to hear nothing but silence in a place like this. Because despite what she hated about hospitals, despite her muttered complaints and anger, there was one good thing about the constant noise: It meant that things were happening; that something, _anything _was being done to fight whatever misfortune had led people to this godforsaken place. The noise meant they were fighting.

And now, all she could hear were the regular beeps from the monitor beside the bed. And now, with the nurse and Sam and Callen gone, Kensi wished very much that she had someone to say "I'm fine" to.

And now, looking down at her comatose and utterly silent partner, Kensi had no idea what to do- because this did not feel very much like a fight at all.


End file.
